Spirit, Vibe, Charisma, Energy...

Ha. Recently watched a football game. Thinking about football.

Fundamentally a simple game: tossing around, running with, and fighting over, an air-inflated pigskin on a field of grass. Big men colliding and piling on each other at top speed. Two teams seeking to get into the opposing team's end zone.  There are lots of designed plays, strategies, stats, probabilities. The simpicity of the game is stoked with football philosophies, complexly-designed systems, and scientific approaches.

Yes. A very weird game for sure. On the one hand, it all seems like over-amped silliness. On the other hand, a microsm of life, death and everything in between.

America's game. Top athletes, big paychecks, "the thrill of victory, the agony of defeat," joy, pain, winning & losing. And of course, it is all a very big business too. Every stadium filled with over-hyped, emotionally-over-wrought fans, plus millions of tv viewers lounging on their couches across the land.

Still, there are mysteries at the heart of the whole grand enterprise. I was thinking about those nebulous, hard to define, invisiblly-strange concepts that seem to be part of every play of every game.

Thinking of Momentum, Pocket Presence, Leadership, Football smarts, Anticipation, Confidence, Luck, Chaos, Gumption, Toughness, Discipline.

You know, those amazing, ephemeral & nebulous mysteries: Spirit, Vibe, Charisma, Energy. 

Yes, indeed, a weird game. Weird, like life, you know, which is weird too.

"He himself was nothing." - E. Jean Carroll

How to break a Troll? That's easy. You call them out, you troll a Troll. You bait them, provoke them to do and say stupid things and you reveal their inner moral hollow-ness, their complete nothing-ness. There is a pretty famous, ubiquitious Ugly personality that sort of dominates our politcal discourse, especially in the right-wing-lunatic-sphere. You know that fricking, crazy MAGA-verse?

Well. It's interesting. You can sense a momentum-shift happening right now. That over-sized stupid person and bully recently lost in a courtroom in New York, and it's clear that it is the beginning of the end for that super-ugly person.

It's also quite funny, gratifying and appropriate that it is a woman who made the first deep wound (83 million smackers), to that super-vulnerable, blimp-sized, male-ego.

E. Jean Carroll tells America that Trump is nothing:

 "He was a phantom. It was the people around him who were giving him power. He himself was nothing. It was an astonishing discovery for me. He's nothing. We don't need to be afraid of him. He can be knocked down."

Yes. Indeed. The end of the bully. One solid punch and whole edifice of hate and stupidity comes crashing down.  It will be quite interesting, and fun, to watch this all unravel. The Bully lives in a glass castle, and it is totally vulnerable, easily cracked and crashed. Once folks realize he is not a scary clown, just a sad, pathetic one, the whole game of  bullying-dominance vanishes. Maybe it will be the knowing laugher of women that finally evaporates that toxic dude? I am predicting we are entering the "warp-speed-phase" of the MAGA King's total dissolution. It's been a long time coming. "Let it Come Down." 

Peak Pottersville...

Superbowl 2024 is set. Taylor Swift's boyfriend's team is going to Las Vegas for the big game. Yep. Remember "It's a Wonderful Life?"  USA is no longer Bedford Falls, it's all Pottersville, baby!

In two weeks, every casual and devoted Football Fan will be armed with a cool, hi-tech, device in the palm of their hand that will allow them to bet on every play of the Big Game in Sin City, AND, that same device will connect them to all their money in all their bank accounts. One little click. A Casino in every hand. That's America, Baby! 

Super Bowl 2024, it's going to be the biggest day of gambling in the History of Humanity. We have reached "peak Pottersville!" No doubt. Add to it all the Toxic Stew of Football Fandom: Easy access to $, junk food, binge-drinking,  thumb-clicks away from any crazy-ass bet the book-makers can concoct, the over-amped, emotionally stimulating kick of watching king-sized, super-aggressive athletes beating the absolute shit out of each other. Every play a possibly life-altering, forever-maiming, and totally-disfiguring, car-crash.

America's Game. 

Ha. A Humble Pilgrim meekly asks: "What could possibly go wrong?!" AND "What of Zuzu's Petals?"

Also of course, there is an entertaining side-show, and celebrity drama: the Lunatic Right-Wing is having a hissy-fit and a total meltdown. Taylor Swift, rich, powerful, charismatic, seemingly-progressive woman, and her boyfriend, the big, hulking tight end on the Kansas City Chiefs, a spokesperson, and commercial endorser for the Pfizer Covid VAX, are the absolute, best, blue-tinged, power couple of enlightened "wokeness."  A strong woman, a sensbile, public-health-caring man. It is all so provocative and mad-making for the lunatic right.

They think Taylor is a Satanic & Witchy force.  Ha. Ha. Ha. So, so funny. I won't be betting on the game, I expect to just take in all the chintzy, cheap & glittering Vegas spectacle with calm, cool and skeptical eyes. Might be a good game, who knows? For sure it will be The Apotheosis of the Big $.

"You are the Authority... of You..."

One of my obessions: Headphones. I own a few pair of excellently-constructed, and great-sounding headphones. Not too expensive, all of them are on the lower realm of the price range. They all look, sound, and feel, quite different. They are all great in their own ways. But if you look and listen hard enough you realize each pair of headphones opens up their own little sonic Universes.

It's a rabbit hole, for sure. I do lots of serious close listening. Put on a pair of headphones and a unique sonic Universe is revealed.

You want to know which pair of headphones are the best? Ha. Aye, there's the rub. 

I recently had an email exchange with one of my favorite headphone makers, I asked a question about two different models, wondering if there were "sonic differences."  The anwswer was maybe obvious, slightly confounding, and pretty much perfect:

"You’re asking the question we get asked all the time and feel we can’t answer. How do we quantify a subjective topic? What we hear and our preferences differ from person to person, making it impossible for me to tell you what you’ll hear. Then determining if the difference is worth the cost can’t be done."

Yes. Reminds me of that Philip K. Dick sentence: "You are the authority." I would add two extra words to that idea: "You are the authority, of you."

Go to a headphone site such as DIY-Audio-Heaven and you will quickly get lost in soundwave charts, and detailed descriptions of features and functions of all kinds of headphones. And you quickly, inevitably drop into a knotty, gnarly, mystifying philosophical discussion: Are you a Subjectivist, An Objectivist, or an Inbetweenist?

Right. Kind of interesting. No clear anwsers. The more you look, the more you see, the more you hear, the less you know. And you realize it's not all about the headphone, it's also about you. You end up in your own little hall of mirrors. You can read expert opinions, you can study all the fancy, colorful charts, you can try to be a bit "scientific" in your studies, but finally, definitely, you have to put your headphones on for yourself, and you are left with your own head, your own pair of ears, your own internal, & personal experience of what you hear when those soundwaves start to bounce around inside your body. You are your very own uniquely-you instrument of perception. You, and only you, get to decide what's what. Objectively speaking, it is all quite a subjective thing, indeed.

This topic totally resonates with me, and rattles around with complex reverberations. I imagine that it opens up into all realms of my life. Life, and all the phenomena contained within it is what you see, what you feel, what you hear, what you think, what you know, and really, what don't know too.  Wisdom, it seems to me, is to know that ulitmately what you know is quite limited, bounded by the vast sea of what you really don't know at all. And of course, you don't know what you don't know. A conundrum right there.  A deep lesson in reality and perception. A lesson played out in your own head and body. Headphones, a heady topic, no doubt. You are left with questions, lots of questions, for instance: What do you hear? How does it feel? Do you like it?

A Good Day, A Better Tomorrow...

When I heard the news that  E. Jean Carrol had been awarded 83.3 million dollars in her defamtion case win vs. the Very-Super-Toxic Bully. I rejoiced. Is that bad of me? I say: "Nah."

 

What is that delicious word in German? Schadenfruede: "the experience of pleasure, joy, or self-satisfaction that comes from learning of or witnessing the troubles, failures, pain, or humiliation of another."

Yes. Indeed. I have no problem with celebrating the humiliation of the Bully. I think it's a wonderful thing. I must admit I despise those who lie with impunity, those who are cruel to others, those tin-pot strong-men who lord over others, the narcissistic egotists, (see previous post), folks determined to make the world a more dysfunctional, chaotic, and more hate-filled place.

As Dylan once sang: "don't hate nothing except hatred."

So, yes, there is "joy in mudville." When will the conservative media (oops, sorry, nothing "conservative" about them, think: the 24/7 lunatic, right-wing noise machine),  stop lying to their viewers, when will they tell the truth that their favorite Toxic Bully is a multi-times loser? That he is on an epic losing streak, and this latest judgement against him is a harbinger of more judgements to come? Turns out courtrooms in America are not places conducive to lies, bluster, and bullying.

I flashed on that old motto from Superman: "Truth, Justice and the American Way." Yes. But I think the updated motto is even better, you know a little more open-ended: "Truth, Justice and a Better Tomorrow." Sure. Sometimes truth, justice and goodness prevail. That's worth celebrating...

Joker & Trump... Yep... A Sickness...

Speaking of "slogs" (see previous post), I recently watched "Joker" (2019). A "psychological thriller," depicting the origin story of the infamous DC Comics bad guy. Joaquin Phoenix gives an incredibly detailed performance in the title role, and he totally transforms his body, and his physicality in his portrayal.

It is such an ugly and nihilistic movie. No hint of redemption or goodness. It delves deep into the psyche of a very disturbing and disturbed human being. It realistically portrays a narcisistic, depressed, depraved, self-loathing, suicidal, homcidal, and deeply afflicted personality.

It points a crooked finger to the idea that neglect, cruelty, pain, abuse, and suffering are passed down from one generation to the next; that "monsters," are not born, but made. And really, if you look hard enough, there are no monsters amongst us, just deeply sick & psychically-deformed human beings who do monstrous things.

Not light entertainment. Watching the movie is like watching a very bad car-crash with multiple casualites. What compelled me to watch to the end? Joaquin's performance. Really I blame him. He is one of my favorite actors and he is totally amazing and convincing.

Why do I mention all this? Why didn't I just take a hot shower aftewards and just forget seeing this black-hole of a movie?

It has haunted me ever since. I do think the movie has broader resonance in our current world, it is a great depiction of Trump & Trumpism. Really. I actually got a chill reading this sentence from Wikipedia: "On November 16, 2019, it was screened at the White House for President Donald Trump, who reportedly enjoyed the film."

I wonder if he recognized himself in Joaquin's portrayal? Or is he just too blind to his own depravity, too self-aborbed, and too clueless?  I am thoroughly convinced this movie is actually a great psychological depiction & explanation for Trump. Why is he so popular with a segment of our society? Unfortunately, sadly, the MAGA cult sees their own hatred, and self-loathing, reflected in him. Trumpism isn't politics, it is pathology.

OMG. 

Joker & Trump. They both wear make-up and color their hair. Lots of similiar personality traits: self-loathing, narcissitic, very un-funny, deplorable, mentally-deformed, full of hate and revenge, a seething psyche that wants to inflict pain & suffering on anyone better (which they believe deep in their hearts is everyone), than themselves, one who hates anyone not deformed by their own hate too. A totally bloated , blimp-sized, ego, a scared weakling & coward, with a small and totally crushed psyche. You can see the type: racists, bullies, dictators, authoritarians, haters of all stripes.

There are differences. 

Joker was a deprived child, Trump was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. One, of course, is fictional, the other one is very, very real. Both characters are big, terrible, brutally-unsympathetic babies. Yikes. Shite. 

Yes, some people just want to light the world on fire to watch it burn. Their self hatred, fear & loathing is projected on eveyone else. That is MAGA.  It explains Fascism too. A movement of hate-filled creeps wanting to wreak revenge on civilization and those more civilized. The attitude can be summarized as: "I am unhappy, disregarded, under-appreciated, held in contempt by others. I want to destroy everything, bring it all down in a heaping pile of ash. And I will blame those 'others'  for all the ills of the world." 

Yes. Indeed. This often plays out in our Pop Culture thru books, movies, comics, etc. Rage-induced revenge sagas, and bleak, all-encompassing, apocalyptic dystopias.  It's a persistent, ubiquitous genre of trauma & drama. This particular film of horror was a world-wide box-office success. Yikes.

Amazingly, we actually, accidentally, with a little help from Russian diinfo, put one of these very deformed, mortally-sick personalities into the White House once, and FUCK, he wants in again. 

At the end of the film Joker is standing on a flaming automobile, surrounded by a mob of deranged clowns. I couldn't help flashing on Trump, the MAGA hordes, and the attack on the Capitol on January 6th, 2021. The movie now reads like a premonition, and a prophecy of that very dark day.

WTF.  It all points to a sickness in our national psyche too. Dare I say it? We can all do so, so much better.  Yikes. 

The Necessity of the Slog...

Slogging.

Nature teaches us. "You must slog thru..." 

Yes. Indeed. The seasons all have their lessons. The present season of snow, ice, & freezing rain is a valuable and gnarly teacher. If you must navigate thru the streets, on the sidewalks, across the pathways, you must take infinite care. Each step is a potential calamity. "Every step counts."  Sounds prosaic. And I suppose it is, but it also critical to making it thru in one piece. Any fall can be deadly.

Slipping, sliding, faltering, catching yourself in the midst of a fall, well, that my friend, is just brave adventure. Getting thru the day without falling, that is the very definition of success. You can take pleasure in the simple goodness of simple things.  "I didn't fall today."

Instead, a healthy slog; slow, determined, a bit clumsy, homely, dull & boring. So earthbound. Back home, strip off all the garments made cold & wet. Happy to be alive and whole in a warm kitchen, the radiators singing. Counting my blessings. Made it without hurting myself. All hail the necessary slog.

Yes... Against a Mighty Wind...

Ha. You have to do a little digging to find out what really happened last night in the New Hampshire Republican Primary. You have to work a bit to get past the headlines, the click-bait, and the talking-head blabbering of the politcal pundits.

Turns out the MAGA King is actually a very weak Presidential Candidate. He isn't even all that popular in Republican cirlces at least in N.H.  If you want to track with reality on the ground, you are going to have to do some thinking, searching & swimming against the media river of shite. It's a job, a mission. Essential.

Here's my morning click-bait:  "...  there's a segment of right-leaning swing voters who just don't want to vote for a rapist/fraud/traitor."

Peter Baker, NYT:

"Trump claims again that he won in 2020. But an incumbent with a challenger scoring more than 40% against him in NH would be seen as wounded and weak. (Ask LBJ or Bush 41.) Instead, Trump claims a big victory because he's not actually an incumbent even though he plays one on TV."

Reuters take is good too: "Donald Trump's victory in the New Hampshire Republican primary on Tuesday masks weakness with independents and moderate voters that could be a warning sign for his likely general election matchup against Democrat Joe Biden, exit poll data and analysts suggest."

Yes. It's gonna be a long, muddy, slog thru lots of shite this year. An overflowing river of shite, a lot of over-hyped hubbub, and brain-numbing, hurly-burly. But I do believe cooler heads and warmer hearts will come to the fore. You know Democrats, Independents and Moderates are gonna rise up and have their say. They will save Democracy. No doubt. I do believe. That's the takeaway. Amen Brothers & Sisters.

The Past...

The past. It is here now. We embody it. The past is embedded deep in our bones, our muscles, our cells. The past surrounds & envelops us. There is more past than future in our day to day. The present moment, such a slender, translucent, filment, is perched on the remnants, the architecture, the teetering stack of generations, the shadowy, floaty, ghosts of the past. The future is just a glimmering, sparkling vision dancing out on a distant horizon. The past is not dead and gone. It is alive, within us, and within everything that surrounds us. "Living in, and upon, the past, presently..."

Bad Ideas vs. Good Ideas...

An American Dictator? A bad idea.

A President with "total immunity" from prosecution for crimes committed? A really, really bad idea.

Fuck. 

The Republican Party has totally devovled into a sham and a grift of total  bad-faith, bad-action, complete shite. A bunch of cowards & lapdogs pandering and slavering over their Bulbous, Disintegrating, brain-worm-infested, MAGA Wanna Be King. 

It is a sad joke & a terrible stain on our little Democratic Experiment. 

Democracy & Free & Fair Elections? Very good ideas. 

No man or woman is above the law? Another really good idea. 

One looks on in total wonder and horror at the GOP and MAGA Zombies. How can my fellow Americans be so far out of their minds?

One thinks it must be Fear of Change, Hatred of "the other," deep in the bone Racsim, that drives those folks. So misguided, so soul-killing. What makes America Great? Diveristy, Multiculturalism, Woke-Ism, Progressivism, Free & Fair Elections, The Rule of Law, Open Minds, Open Hearts. 

America, the great human melting pot, or maybe the thriving, boiling, madly-diverse, multi-bean chili...

Crazy Year. 2024. Everything is on the table, once again. Cooler heads, warmer hearts, must prevail. We must think and vote as if Democracy itself is at stake. Because, of course, it is...

A Big Band in a Small Room...

I played guitar with my other band yesterday. This time I played my trusty old acoustic guitar. I kept my head, and I also kept my shit together. 8 musicians in a room. A really big band, a relatively small rehearsal room. We played for 2 hours. Newly-hatched songs, a few new-ish songs, and a clutch of old songs too.

It was exhilatring. Another example of the healing power of art, creativity, music and human connection. Walking into the rehearsal room, my song-writing partner and I were pretty damn tired and out-of-sorts. It's been a long, freezing cold, starkly-hard week of schlepping around in the hood. 

All of that tiredness and bad feeling vanished as soon as we started singing & playing our songs. Losing ourselves in the vibrations of the moment is just such a beautiful thing. A marvelous, soul-enriching kick.

We are lucky to have a superbly talented group of musicians who are dedicated to our cause. It's the power of the group, an energy bigger than any one of us. We pretty much soared thru the whole session. Even the brand-new songs came to life very quickly, by the second time thru, the songs started to assert themselves.  We have really developed a great rapport with this group. There is an instant connection with everyone in the room. It is easy to ignite the fire of creativity.

Afterwards, dissasembling the p.a. and packing up our gear, the deep-in-the-bone tiredness came back. We were both exhausted once again, but now there was a glow, a shiny aura surrounding us. Yes, a transendence, an exhilaration, a deep satisfaction. Yes. That is the power of doing the good work.

Mojo - Fading & Rising...

Mojo.  Sometimes it's really about mojo. Your guitar fails (see previous post), and your mojo takes a hit. You wonder if you are cursed, if your mojo is disappating, dribbling away, never to return. 

I disassembled my guitar. And then put it back together again. Funny. It seems to have "fixed," whatever was going on with that tuning machine. "How is that possible?"

Such a weird mystery. So yeah, yesterday I worked over my guitar, tightened screws, reset the action, put on a new "E" string. It all seems fine now. That nightmare scenario is already fading away. 

Just to be sure I am ordering a new set of tuning machines.  A precaution. You know, I just don't want any uncertainty. Why did that thing fail? Why is it now working? WTF? 

I can't explain it.  So, yes, a new beginning. Shiny new parts on the way. The first step in renewing one's mojo. Turns out underlying everything is mystery.  A weird & funny Universe we have here, for sure.

Nightmare of a R&R Show...

Ha. I have had that nightmare. Many nights. A panoply of circumstances. My guitar falls apart on stage. My guitar turns into a snake. I open my guitar case and my guitar is in tiny pieces. Or, I am scrambling backstage unable to locate my guitar.

Last night I lived it all on stage, in living color, in the real, with my r&r band. A well-rehearsed, well-oiled 5 man band of brothers. Our last rehearsal was epic. After that session I wrote to one of my bandmates in a text: "Maybe the best we've ever sounded?"

We were playing to a packed room. Most of the folks were there to see other bands, but still, we had a captive audience. The room was electric.  On the first note of the first song the low E string on my Telecaster went slack, I thought I had broken a string, but it turns out the tuning machine had broken.  I flailed away and noxiously low, rumbly, unmusical noises belched from my amp. It sounded really, really bad. Not a good bad.

It sent everyone else in the band off-kilter. The whole band basically went Tilt. We stumbled thru a few songs, everything was tentative and fractured. I struggled to play tunes with one less string, with strange noises still pouring out of my amp. I was not succeeding at all. Failing & falling badly. Funny. My uncertainty, my indecsion and flailing totally infected the whole band. Everyone started flailing and failing too. I could not get my guitar in tune. It was a complete mess. My in the moment thought: this is a train-wreck and I am the Conductor of Chaos.

The other guitar player in the band offered me his guitar, we traded guitars, and he jumped off-stage and put on a new string and tried to tune up my guitar. We both thought it was just a broken string, but it was not, it was a fatal, unfixable, untunable break of the tuning machine.

He decided to play my guitar with 5 strings, while I played his 6 string. Finally, the set almost complete, the last three songs, we found our footing and played a fiercely-wild, uncontrollable mini-set. It was total mayhem. I flailed away on a guitar I wasn't familiar with, totally uncomfortable, with a wider fretboard, longer strap, it just didn't sit or feel right, but I flailed away with total, crazy abandon. Fuck. Trying to banish the bad vibes and broken chords. We playled like a band of drunken wild horses with newly-discovered instruments. 

We finished with a hurricane of sound. We decided to blast thru Neil Young & Crazy Horses' song "Fucking Up." Yes. So damn fitting. It was a messy sonic explosion of fucked-up-ness. It was sort of sastifying in it's total unsastifying-ness. 

Shite. That was a show. We will remember it. The uncontolled wreckage. The unholy glory of the fuckup and the breakdown of an old guitar. Yes. My guitar needs to go to the shop. My head could use some fixing too. That was humbling and embarrassing. Nightmare realized. Yikes.

Things I tell Myself...

I tell myself...

Yeah. Live within your means. Keep your feet on the ground. Don't get too high or low. Keep calm, carry on. And, yes, live lightly, and try to muster up some grace. Lean to the light. Be gentle with yourself and with others too. Don't take things, or your self, too seriously. Everything passes. There is sadness and joy in that reality.  There are finalities and possibilities. Yes: a contradiction, a cross, and a crossroad. Oh, yeah, and "damn the torpedoes."

Does that mean I'm immune to the Life Will Crush You  (see previous post), idea? Well, no...

I have learned to do less judging of my time, and more just living it.

The last few days I have been "on the road," which for me means doing a little tour of mansions in the neighborhood. Living in other folks places of luxury and wonder. I am just a working stiff. Making a few bucks, basically/barely making it, surrounded by the riches of others. 

Very weird. Strange. Odd. 

This morning back home for awhile. Much more humble surroundings. Still, it is nice to come back to find everything in it's right place. Homely, comfy. More my own reality. I think we are all here to be ourselves to the max. Living in our truth. Heart, Head & Spirit aligned. Yes. Indeed. What else you gonna do?

Life Will Crush You...

I watched the movie Maestro, (2023) yesterday. Why was I so annoyed and out of sorts afterwards? That feeling of dipping your body and psyche into a dirty river. Made me want to take a hot shower to wash the bad vibes off. Great acting, excellent film work, a nicely-rendered biographical portrait of Leonard Berstein and his wife Felicia Montealegre Bernstein.  Bradley Cooper and Carey Mulligan were amazing as the two leads.

I don't know. The film made me think of another film, Raging Bull  (1980). Both films are shot in vivid B&W, both films depict real people, both films delve into the complexity of the complicated human thing.

Leonard Bernstein and Jake La Motta come across as very accomplished, (one a musician & Conductor, the other a brutally-driven Boxer), and deeply flawed, sometimes totally off-putting, human beings. Both acheived fame and fortune and a soul-sucking celebrity in their respective realms. Both men ended up pretty much broken & unhappy in their own unique ways. Both narratives lead one to the sad, hard-won, conclusion: LIFE WILL CRUSH YOU!

And the big, ego-driven man isn't always what he's cracked up to be.

Why did I basically hate "Maestro," and love "Raging Bull?" I can't really explain it. If you pressed me, I can't really make sense of it. Maybe I think Scorcese's film has more poetry, more violence, more exreme drama, more humor, more over the top madness, and because of that "more-ness," it's a more sastisying and cathartic experience? But I'm not totally sure.

I do think De Niro's Jake La Motta is the greater acting feat & portrayal. But no doubt, both actors transform themselves, both actors delve deep into the psyche of their tragically-flawed characters, both actors try their best to bring complexity to complicated personalities, both actors  transform their bodies, wear fake noses, you know, there's lots of similarities.

But really, I don't know. 

Maybe, finally, Maestro is really Carey Mulligan's film?  Which is a good thing. She is the character you can most closely track with, but, unfortunately, it is a sour, sad affair; Human Beings lying to themselves and others, living the lie, over a life-time of mad success, and mad failure.  For some odd reason Maestro just didn't sit well with me.  I had a long conversation with a friend, and she too found it brilliant in some ways, and deeply unsettling, in some ways too. So, you know, maybe, probably, it's a really good movie?!

Surrender...

Early morning, schlepping thru the streets in sub-zero temps. Yikes. WTF. The weather wins the day. You have to just surrender. Total surrender. Cold temps win. Nothing to do except honor the vibe of the day. What is the vibe of the day? Sub-zero, deep-freeze, crazy-ass windchill. You just have to give it up. Turning inward and staying in, the only way. Yikes.

Think: Beastly Cold...

Well... you know... the weather...

It sort of rules. Think: Extreme. It's cold. Beastly cold around here. One can only venture out for minutes at a time. One only ventures out if it's absolutely necessary. Turns out most things aren't all that necessary. So it's an indoor kind of life for awhile. Thankful that the heating system is working and there is food in fridge. Thankful one is able to cancel appointments, and rewire the day to day. Priority one, don't freeze.

This kind of weather makes living in the Heartland seem sort of silly. Why exactly do we live here? 

Plus, of course, it's kind of dangerous. Dangerously, crazily-cold. Things break down in this kind of extremity of temperature. There is an inwardness that comes to the fore. You naturally pull in, sink into your  body, retreat to the center of your head. 

You flash on that phrase, cabin fever. 

"Stuck inside of Mobile with the Memphis blues again..." - B. Dylan. You really can't go out, even if you want to go out. There's a hint of claustrophobia hanging over you like a dark & bone-chilling cloud.

The reality: lots of your hopes & dreams & actions out in the world are now on-hold. They aren't all that tangible or real or necessary, anyway. They kind of vanish in the deep-freeze. So it's all a bit humbling.  You aren't all that important, except maybe to your self. You are thrown back on simple & basic survival. Keep warm. Keep occupied. Keep calm. Carry on.

Yes. There's a lesson there. You are just a tiny entity in the face of a big, hostile reality. You can't wish it away, or spin it, or deny it. It is super damn cold, and that reality changes everything. Yes. There is a reality, a Universe of Truths, convenient, or not, that you must contend with. That is true in all aspects of your existence. Deal with the Deal that is Dealt. That's it.

Yes. Stay Off the Ledge, Keep Warm...

The truth 

does not require 

your participation 

to exist.

Bullshit does. 

— Terence McKenna

Super-deep-freeze here. The temps have plunged down to face & bone chilling levels, and well, any rational being with a choice, would stay indoors. Hunkering in can be a happy state. You are given a license to turn to your favorite diversions. Goofing off can be a strategy to survival and good living.

Fortifying myself with coffee, hot tea, oatmeal, vegetables, great music, Steely Dan's "Countdown the Ecstasy"  (1973) on the CD player this moment. Exquisite. Life-affirming.

I came across this Teri Kanefield tweet-storm this morning. It seems so on-target, something I have been noticing myself too.

Fact: The United States has been a backsliding democracy. 

Fact: We are in an information disruption. 

Because democracy requires facts and an educated population, the question is whether enough people will develop the media literacy needed quickly enough.

The invention of the printing press created the same havoc as the Internet: Suddenly people were bombarded with information in quantities they were not accustomed to, and they didn't know how to evaluate written sources. 

That's when blood libel took off.

Rage-inducing simplifications take 30 seconds to toss off. 

Laying out the explanation can take hours. People turn on the TV, get riled, and then want me to take the time to explain the reality and "talk them off the ledge." 

No more. Learn to stay off the ledge.

Yes. Staying off the ledge seems like a civic duty. Also a good strategy for staying sane. Keep your head. Keep your feet on the ground. Keep calm and carry on. Take note of the rage-inducing beast, but refuse to be consumed by it. Find some space in your head. Lean to the light. Swim towards a diamond-hard clarity. Buck up. Damn the torpedoes. Oh yeah, be sure to keep warm and cozy. It's a fucking cold world out there.

Almost Calamitous...

Clamitious imaginings.

Often one's thoughts, worries, imaginery scenarios are much more dramatic, apocalyptic, and doom-laden than the actual reality. Yesterday's post (see previous), is an excellent example. It was a sloppy weather-day: cold, messy, slushy, with powerful winds rushing across the lake. But it wasn't very apocalyptic, you know, just a somewhat nasty winter day. One of a series. If you have lived most your life in the Heartland, this kind of weather is not a surprise.

Still, it was dangerous out there. Slippery, icey, every step chancing a fall. Trees and branches were flying thru the air and crashing to the sidewalks and streets. My good friend missed getting smashed-down by a massive tree-fall by a few minutes. She sent me a picture. If that fat trunk and branch had fallen on her, it's not hard to imagine broken bones, and a cracked skull or, you know, much worse. The wrong place, wrong time opens the door to luck (good &  bad), chance, & random chaos. That's the typical day.

Anyway, it didn't go down that way. 

We both spent most of the day inside. We were in different locations, doing the same sorts of things. Warm, toasty, riding out the storm. Yes, Mother Nature had declared, "If you are smart, you will stay home." We were able to rewire the day and did just that. We called it a "snow day." Listened to music (Steely Dan, John Martyn, Neil Young), plunged into a novel, Anthony Burgess' "A Dead Man in Deptford" (1993) drank hot tea, had a nutritious meal, streamed an entertaining show "Tokyo Vice" (2022) So, yes, we made the storm work for us, we turned the day into a completely different kind of reality. It became a day of hunkering in, a day of determined leisure and casual luxury. Making it. Yes.

Life-Maker/Life-Taker...

Sweet Mother Nature. Life-maker. All that lives, emerges from her depths. She has her fierce & nasty side too. A life-taker.  She is complete: A Sweet & Cruel Mother.

Yesterday was a day of anticipation. The calm before the coming storms. A mild winter day. Flashes of sunlight, milder temps. But the day overall felt quite temporary. A day of reprieve. There were predictions of a major storm on it's way.

This morning, this richly-black and cold morning, it feels so very different. The wind, it howls. The wind is a fierce & snarling beast. It blasts across the lake, blasts thru the tree branches, there are little dagger-like spikes of water in the air. Nasty. A powerful, wild, wind. We trudge against the wind. It challenges you, freezes your skin, cuts to the bone.

We have fucked with the formula, for uncounted years Human Beings have carelessly pumped tons & tons of carbon dioxide into the atmosphere.  There are consequences. Reap the wild wind. Extreme weather. That is a theme we can't deny. Climate Catastrophe: stoked by Human greed & stupidity. No doubt.

This morning it is beastly out there, but just a preamble. They say it will get bad, really, really bad.  We have stocked up on provisions, brought out the heavy garments in which to enrapture ourselves. Preparing to hunker in. "Come in, she said, I'll give you, Shelter from the Storm." - B. Dylan  Yes. Indeed. The poet speaks.

At some point the weather dominates. All your Human plans, all your little comings and goings are ruled over, and dictated by, Nature's Force. All you can do is try your best to survive. Make it thru intact.

One offers up an improvised morning prayer: Dear Mother, please, don't forsake us.

The Long Chain...

Thinking about luck, fate, chance, destiny. 

The days roll out, we make decisions, take actions, run down the moments of a day. The Universe slowly expands, time ticks by, you wonder if the long chain of causality explains it all? Galaxies and planets, stars & black holes, little slippery beings venturing from the ocean to prosper and procreate, and the splendiferous multiplicity of living things flourishes. The dinosaurs enter & exit.

Human Beings emerge. Human civilzations rise and fall. Kings come and go. Wars, plagues, pestillence, Ages, both Light & Dark contend. New ideas, and regimes, lord over everyone & take hold, and then they too are relegated to the dustbin of History. Finally after all the huffing & puffing, the toil, the trouble, the madnesses, the hurly-burly, the wild-ass nature of chaos and construction, we find ourselves here, in this moment, eeking out a meager existence, cultivating meagers.

I know, surely, it's not all about us, or me. Just a teeny, tiny thing: a Human Being. And we are, I am, just one of the teeming billions scrambling around on this little blue planet. At the same time we all are the main protagonists in our own little narratives. What we do, what we say, what we think, isn't that important in the big picture, but in each of our own little worlds, everything is important and everything counts. It's a head-scratching conundrum, ideed. 

I sit alone in big, shiny kitchen, a room, not my own, eating a bowl of oatmeal, a simple, healthful, good thing, listening to a fabulous  concert from the Grateful Dead,  5/8/77.  Jerry Garcia's guitar, like rain and lightening. So weird. How did life and the long chain of actions, conspire to put me here, now, in this very particular time and place, this oddly weird moment? Did everything that has happened in the Universal story, have to happen, just so, to make this exact moment possible? And to what end, and purpose?

I have no clue. I just need to buck myself up, get ready for a new day. Living. It's a cool occupation, often entertaining, but also quite odd & strange; full of wonder & unknowing. There is, of course, unfortuantely, lots of loss, suffering & pain to endure too. 

Luck, fate, chance, destiny?  Whatever. I mean, yikes, what does it all add up to?  I don't rightly know.

Time Pieces...

My closest friend and I share a love for Sandy Denny's great song, "Who Knows Where the Time Goes?" Yes. An indeliblely fantastic song, that poses the eternal, unanwserable question of our days. 

My friend was going thru some old boxes of stuff and came across a handful of Polarioids from an earlier time, hell, I mean, even the film format itself, Polaroids, are from a lost time and place.

Of course, there is no good anwser to Sandy's question. 

We wear the years on our bodies, and in our heads. There is no stopping time, time is like a river, always flowing. Can't hold onto those moments, they just flash by. Maybe when the times are bad, it is a good thing that time passes, maybe that is a comfort?

So much of that past seems like a mirage now. People & places that have come and gone. There are elements of the past you can conjure up, but much of our lives seem to just evaporate into the air, vanished, without a trace. You wonder, "Did any of that really happen?"

There is the residue, moments that are stamped deeply in your psyche, but even the air we now breathe, isn't what it was then. Weird, and strange. Even hard to hold onto the idea of times past. Time. They say it is relative. Right, relative to the observer, the being trapped in the web of time. We are in it, and of it. We are time-pieces, just like everything else in the Universe, ticking away, one moment at a time.

Always a New Day...

How to keep things "fresh?"  Make a routine, break a routine. More easily done if you live a bit of a gyspy-like existence. At home for a few days, then off to someone else's place. I do it often. Find myself in new surroundings, where everything is different. I gravitate to the same rituals, but the setting changes, which gives everything the flavor of "new." A reminder that we all are really just visitors. Here for a brief time, and then gone. Living lightly, always moving. Alive to the elements of a day. It is always a new day, so like the other days, and different too. "Home" it is in your heart, in your head. 

Difficult & Vague...

The lines below come from a conversation between me and a friend of mine, about something else, something sort of mundane, but it seems to me to be an excellent description of our very Human Condition, the Condition of Being a Human Being. Possibly, maybe, pretty much, you know, totally Imperfect Beings in an Imperfect world?

Does this idea of imperfection let us off the hook? Nope. Not in the least. We are all still very much on the hook for the decisions we make, and the actions we take. It's that kind of Universe.

First of course, an important preamble: "We don't know, what we don't know..."  Aye, there's the rub. We often have to make decisions based on very little information, and sometimes those decisions, I mean, who knows, maybe every little decision, can be, or really is, life-altering.

And, for sure: "It's a tough situation. Lots of difficult questions, with only vague answers..."

Yes. Indeed. So what's a Humble Pilgrim to do? We sift thru information, crunch the data, or trust our gut & intution, you know, we do it all; sometimes in the quicksilver moments, we shoot from the hip, or sometimes we really worry over that bone; lots of tossing & turning, and determined hurly-burly of rumination. Then, basically, we  make those tough choices, and, damn the torpedoes. That's Life, Baby!

"Morons Trying to Make History" = January 6th by John Ganz...

You hate to label them "enemies," you know, they are your fellow Americans, but enemies they are. Enemies of Democracy, Justice & Truth.

As Jeff Magnus from Neutral Milk Hotel once sang: 

"Know all your enemies

We know who our enemies are

Know all your enemies

We know who our enemies are..."

Yes. Enemies. For instance, the Brain-Dead MAGA hordes who tried to stop the peaceful transfer of power on January 6th. The ones who are still blindly following the "Moron Fascist..." 

John Ganz: The Question of January 6th:

"From a certain perspective, the critics who say that talking about fascism takes Trump too seriously are correct: it involves too much hocus-pocus, it cloaks him in a certain dark grandeur, and gives everything a Spenglerian gloom that makes him seem bigger than he is. After all, he’s just a crook and a conman, an idiot. But the phoniness, that bombast, and the ridiculousness was a part of the original thing, too. There has always been a deeply moronic side to fascism. Fascism is perhaps most fundamentally a moron putting on world-historical airs. “Morons trying to make history” — what better way to describe January 6? The second biggest mistake is to take it too seriously. But the first biggest mistake is to not take it seriously enough."

Emptywheel adds:

This passage made me reflect on what the breakdown among Trump adherents are: 

1) Cowards afraid of his retaliation 

2) People conned by his grift 

3) Utilitarians who believe he's the only way GOP wins 

4) Adherents of fascism

Yes. We all should call this shite out.  We need to stand up and reclaim our Democracy from it's enemies. Those both near and far...

What is the Mission?

Funny. My "racial resentment" is quite low. Don't really get it, or understand it. When I see a Human Being out on the boulevard doing worse than I, my first thought: "There but for the Grace of God go I."  

I also find it quite difficult to be envious of any Human Being doing better than I. My first thought: "We are all on such Singular Roads."  We all start at different places, and will end up in different places. It's a funny, strange, mysterious Universe that we all live in.

Everyone has their reasons, seasons, problems and gifts. No sense beating each other up. We truly are Brothers & Sisters. Best way forward: Live & Let Live. Extend a helping hand, keep a smile on your face. Keep calm & carry on.

Life. You know, we are all in it together. Best to lean to the light and try to do our best as best we can. Don't add to the pain, don't add to the suffering, live lightly, gently, humbly.

At the same time: be fiercely, joyously, completely us. That is our mission. 

Still, it is important: don't be simple-minded. Know that there are those who don't give a shit, those who do want to hurt others, those who want to wield power over others. There are the bullies, the bad-faith actors, the fascists. the racists, the authoritarians, the fundamentlists and extremists, those anti-democractic beings who want to destroy the peace.

How to do deal with those folks? How to tolerate the intolerant? It's a conundrum. I do think we out-number them. We need to out-vote them, turn away from them. Point out that they offer death & destruction, an anti-humanistic hell-hole. 

I suppose that's what leads us to War. A terrible answer to a terrible question. There is always a war of ideas, and often that war tilts into all-out war on a real battlefield. "War, what is it good for? Absolutely nothing." But of course, it seems there is always a war raging, often multiple wars across the Human Highway. It a human thing, a terrible human thing, no doubt.

Sam, Really, So Very Sam...

My own obsessions. I finished the Murakami book about running and writing. I then jumped into Sam Shepard's last book, "The Spy in the First Person" (2017).

Sam was dying of ALS, Patti Smith helped him edit the manuscript. I resisted reading this book for so long. My companion had read it when it was first published, and she told me I had to read it, that I would love it, but I just couldn't face it.

You see I wrote plays because Sam wrote plays. I have been obessed with Sam and his fabulous work since an early age. He is/was one of the most influential folks in my orbit. Who else resides in this orbit? A few folks: Dylan, Lennon, Vonnegut, Neil Young, Gary Snyder, Melville, Miles Davis, Kubrick, Patti Smith too.

So yeah, finally read the book. I finished it in two sittings. I savored the text, it flowed like a fever-dream. It's a slim volume. Beautifully written. So sad. Also inspiring. Sam, a writer to the end. Some of his obessions were also some of my obessions too: Poetry,  R&R, Horse Racing, Nixon, Muhammad Ali.

Sam writing about horse racing, being at the track, it made me flash on one of my own buried memories. 

The first time I went to the Santa Anita racetrack. Surprisingly, I think of it now as one of my happiest moments. Brilliant sunshine, warm, dazzling, welcoming day. Expansive parking lot filled with fancy, shiny cars, a beautifully laid-out racetrack, the dark-purple San Gabriel mountains off in the distance, gorgeous horses prancing in line, the Daily Racing Form like a mysterious, holy text. Why was I so excited and happy? Potential & optimism. Unbridled. Anything possible in the moment. I was fairly young, lived in the Midwest, had a job that I pretty much hated, jetted out to visit a client, the money flowed easily to me, and the money was incredibly good, I had lots of money burning a hole in my pocket. I really never did learn the value of a dollar. I had not a care in the world. Did I win, did I lose? I don't even remember. There was a vast sea of possibilities looming out in front of me, and that was everything. It was all so exotic, cool, glamorous.

Funny. A world and a time away. All now gone, really, just a mirage now. So different from my present reality. So yeah, Sam's book is a vivid, shimmering, poetic narrative. I did love reading it. It also made me terribly, deeply sad too. Life. Death. You know.

Gray vs. the Inner Light...

Super-gray. A day of grays. Yesterday was a cold, gray day. It sort of put a veil over everything. It was hard to muster up a sunny disposition. The day demanded that one turn on their inner love-light. Outside, in the elements, infinite shades of gray ruled.

Hard not to be a bit down. I sort of slogged thru the motions of a day. It wasn't untl later in the afternoon that the tide turned. 

We sat in our rehearsal studio working on a song we have been working on for a couple of weeks now. It is a promising song, great lyrics, lots of riffs and parts, but for some reason it was all sort of clunky, not clicking. My partner suggested we just blow it up and try something completely different.

In some ways, a scary prospect. So much good work. How to remake it from scratch? I had no idea.

Without a thought in my head I just started to strum in a manner I have never strummed before; a little thing, but everything. I was using a different pick, one I haven't used in quite awhile. So odd. It truly was like lightening striking. The song suddenly had a bold, stirring rhythm unlike anything we've ever done before, and all the parts easily and perfectly fell together. We recorded this new version on my partner's phone. That rhythm was the whole thing, right there, complete. An elusive butterly flitting about. Luckily we captured the flittering and fluttering.

So exciting. We were both suddenly lit up with the creative fire burning thru us. We live for those moments. Truly. Damn the tiredness, damn the slogging thru, damn the gray. We have a new song. The inner light newly incandescent.

Tail-Chasing...

Simplifying...

I am staying at a wealthy family's home, a mansion near the lake. A big old house, with many rooms. It's a nice place. Simple, old world, a classic version of splendor. I am alone with one little furry beast. She is a funny little being, she loves to chase her tail. I mean, who doesn't? Cheap entertainment. She is a little whirling dervish, never quite catches that tail, but she tries. I see my own hopes and dreams as a version of tail-chasing too.

There are things I want to actualize. Determined tail-chasing. I wonder can I make happen, what I want to happen, or do things just happen? Tail just out of reach?!

Mornings are now Mr. Coffee, (one button, on/off), and Quaker Oats (smug, grinning white-haired, quaking- dude on the container). Simple, & easy does it. What is the big deal about buttons and oats? Economy of movement, economy of thought. Early morning, in the dark, beans pre-ground, water resevoir filled, a push of the button to a great pot of coffee. AND... Slightly less than a cup of oats, nearly two cups water, a dash of agave syrup, and you have a fabulous morning breakfast. 

It helps to keep it simple. Keep my feet on the ground, and my head in the game. That's basically it, in a nutshell. Uncommon luxury and simplicity just now happen to be the touchstones of my life at the moment.

Gentle Goofing-Off...

New Year. Yes. The number 2024, is arbitrary. But, of course, the counting of days, the earth's rotation around the sun is not.

Our first day of the New Year was a masterpiece of gentle goofing off. No hangovers over here. No crazy-making fun to shake off. You know, what we used to think of as fun, those years of being young, drinking to excess, getting silly &  being irresponsible, doing really stupid things with other folks also being really stupid, well, now, that all seems like a bad-faith mirage. Wasted days and times. Who were those people? And what were they thinking?

Yesterday, we were happy and clear-eyed. I was sure to have lots of music spinning on the box, yes, those little silver discs,  Beatles music (Past Masters Vol 1 & 2, Revolver, Rubber Soul), so last century, so old world. I always insist to my friend I am not nostalgic in the least, but she doesn't believe me. So much of what I think, and who I am was formed in an earlier time. I don't pine for those days, I just live those influences in the present. 

I am one of those folks who believe that what I listen to, the choices I make in music, movies, and books are important, deeply, truly, madly important. So yes, not just idle entertainment, defining choices. They are the building blocks of I what consider to be  "me."

I turned to what I consider to be one of the most healing, enthralling albums I own, Sigur Ros' Ágætis byrjun  (1999), Icelandic for "new beginning." Yes. I have used this recording as a soundtrack for meditation for years. It's a profound collection of music, no discernable lyrics, pure sound, symphonic, heavenly voices. Beautiful, captivating, sends me on journeys thru the air, propels me into other realms, vivid worlds where spirit rules. Magical, wonderful.

Later we watched one our favorite films, Hustle & Flow (2005) a movie about "a hustler and a pimp," and the folks he enlists to help him in a creative project. Why does it resonate so deeply with my partner and I? It's about a handful of folks trying to create something transendent, bigger than themselves.  Common people, up a against a brute reality, an ugly day to day, hustling, trying to make it, but wanting to reach for something better. The music is Rap/Hip-Hop, not our usual thing. But it totally enraptures and captures our hearts and heads. What is the overall theme? As Tom Petty once put it: "Running down a dream."

Yes, It's a powerful film. Funny. Beautiful. Gritty. The acting is exquisite. Every character indelible. People so unlike us, and so very much like us. My companion always says, I mean, it's a running joke between us, "It's about us." Hah!

Yes. Decisive. Defining choices. I finished the day, jumping into another Murakami book, this one a non-fiction, read:  "What I Talk About When I Talk About Running,"  (2007). Yes. It's about running, but also about writing, and getting on with a life. Sort of an autobiography. Another important choice, another foundational brick in the wall of "me."

Yes. A good beginning. First day of 2024...

Closing the door to 2023, Opening the door to 2024...

My friend follows the great, legendary, shaman, poet & r&r outlaw-priestess, Patti Smith on Instagram. Patti told her followers that things you do on the last day of the year, should be the things that you want to do in the coming new year. You know, setting the tone? Sounded good to us.

What did we do? We worked on a new song. It's one we've been kicking around for a bit. It's tricky, has lots of parts, some finger-picking, some vigorous strumming. The lyrics are great, my partner's voice is beautiful. I did my best to keep up. Still a work in progress.

We also had a fabulous meal: Thai food. Fresh, delicious, heavy on brocoli & tofu. So, so good.

I finished  "Norwegian Wood," (1987) a novel from  Haruki Murakami. The title, of course, comes from a John Lennon song. The book is a powerfully-beautiful piece of writing. So vivid. Just totally great, captivating; an overwhelmingly wonderful novel. One of the best I have ever read. What's it about? Being a unique, distinctive, discerning Human Being in a big, amazing, and sometimes brutal & uncaring world.  Also how to be totally fiercely, uniquely you. How to find love. How to navigate  the reality of  Life & Death, the double-sided coin of the realm; Life & Death always walking hand in hand. It's a coming of age story. Amazing & gratifying how a vivid narrative written by Murakami in 1987, a story narrated by a Japanese student in 1970, resonates so deeply with me; a fellow human being worlds and ages away. A mysterious and fabulous connection via the written word, transcending time, place, circumstance. Music, fashion & pop culture ring resoundingly across the decades and the continents.

To see the world thru a very different human being's eyes, a gift, refreshing & renewing, a head & eye opening experience. 

I was inspired to turn to my Beatles albums as my soundtrack all day, yesterday.  It was all Rubber Soul (1965), Revolver (1966) and The White Album (1968). It wasn't nostalgia. It almost felt like hearing these songs for the first time, once again, thru new ears. Thanks to Murakami. So wild, so good. Which album is my favorite? Can't decide. Love all of them. Hell, it was such an exuberant, fun, creatively satifsying soundtrack I think I will play all those albums again today too.

Yeah. It was a nice, easy & very soulful way to end 2023. Hard to believe I am still here in 2024. I mean, yikes, that's the future, man. Happy to still be here, none the less. I say, onward, upward & damn the torpedoes. I wonder what's gonna happen next? The future is unwritten...